


I've lost my luck (please bring it back)

by superangsty



Series: Give me luck [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Phil Needs a Hug, but theyre always idiots so nothing new there, clint and phil are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superangsty/pseuds/superangsty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is back, and Clint can kiss him again. It just doesn't really feel the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've lost my luck (please bring it back)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CheyanneChika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyanneChika/gifts).



> I hadn't actually intended to write this fic, but after a suggestion I got, I just couldn't help myself, so I've been writing all day. This work is kinda a different style to the others in the series, I kinda let myself get carried away, but I hope you all like it anyway!

“Phil. Hey, Phil. Wake up.”

From under the duvet, Clint heard a grumble, and then the lump that was Phil Coulson shuffled around a bit, going further under the covers in an attempt to escape the voice which was trying to wake him up.

 “Phiiiilll.”

Probably realising that Clint wasn’t going to be letting him go back to sleep any time soon, Phil slowly blinked awake, glaring at the clock and making some more grumbling noises. Clint took this to mean ‘why on earth would you wake me up at this ungodly hour?’

It was only then that Clint actually thought to check the time, and oh – it was only 4am. Way too early for them to be up, especially considering that it was their day off. “That…is a very good question. Sorry, I must be over-excited or something.”

“Always over-‘cited.” Phil managed to mumble, pausing to rub at his eyes. “Whatchoo excited for?”

Clint blamed Phil’s obvious sleepiness for not remembering what day it was, he was sure he wouldn’t have forgotten if he’d woken up at normal time. “It’s our anniversary,” he explained, grinning “we have officially been married for eight years.”

Phil frowned slightly, staying silent for a moment whilst he let his (still half asleep) brain work. “Ten. ‘s been ten years.”

Ah. So he was awake enough to comment on _that._ Clint had been hoping that they would be able to avoid that whole topic of conversation. Oh well, too late to avoid it now. “I, uh – I don’t exactly count the uh – the two years when you were…well, y’know…”

His husband’s face fell, and if Clint didn’t know better he would have sworn he saw a flinch as he replied with “Right, no. ‘course not. Sorry. ‘m tired, not – not thinking straight.” Usually Clint loved the fact that he was the only one that Phil let his guard down for, the only one who saw his reactions to everything, rather than the blank, neutral face that he put on, to ‘look professional’, as he constantly insisted. But it was times like this, when Phil looked as if everything that could go wrong in the world _had_ gone wrong, that Clint wished he didn’t have to see. Not that it happened often, of course. Phil generally tried to keep his face under control, even when he was alone with Clint. The sound of his voice brought Clint out of his thoughts, just soon enough to hear the words “I – I’ll just go back to sleep for a bit.”

“Phil, I-“ Clint started, but Phil had already turned his back to him, and it was only fair to let him sleep, after all, it was ridiculously early. But there was no way that Clint would be getting any sleep, not now, anyway. He was going to be needing a _lot_ more coffee if he was going to deal with this.

 

~***~

 

**_2 years earlier_ **

_Clint was curled up tightly in his bed, the double bed that Tony had given him that he was pretty sure would always feel too large. He had been awake for hours, knew it was the middle of the day, and he probably had meetings to go to or paperwork to fill out, his life was so busy that there was always_ something _to do. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to get up. Not for lack of trying, of course. Every now and then he would determinedly think ‘right, I’m going to get up, and I’m going to do things.’, but he never did. He just stayed in bed, in the quiet, dark room, kind of wishing that somebody would come talk to him but at the same time hoping they didn’t. He wasn’t sure if he was in the mood for talking._

_The door to his room opened, letting in an unwelcome beam of light, as well as an unwelcome visitor. “Go away, Tasha.”_

_The redhead ignored him, instead walking over to the windows and pulling open the curtains. “Not gonna happen. What do you think you’re doing, hiding away in here? I thought you were done with your moping phase.”_

_So had he, as a matter of fact, but it wasn’t like he had control over that sort of thing. “Sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow, ‘kay? Today is just…a bit not good.”_

_“Today, what is today…?” Natasha muttered to herself, trailing off in thought “Oh. It’s – Clint, I’m so sorry.” As she said that, she climbed onto the bed, tucking herself around him and holding him close._

_He shuffled round in her arms so that they were face to face, and he was trying his best (and failing) to hide the tears that were welling up in his eyes. “It would’ve been eight years.” He murmured softly, not trusting himself to say any more._

_“But it wasn’t.” Her statement wasn’t harsh, and she didn’t speak again after that. Obviously just trying to get Clint to keep talking._

_Reluctant, but not wanting to upset Natasha, Clint started to speak. Probably nothing she would find interesting, but he found that talking made the pain lessen. “I had already bought him a present, y’know. It was months too early, but I had found a cap trading card, the last one he needed. He would’ve loved that. Not that it matters now, all his other – all his other cards are covered in his blood. Plus I’ll never get to give it to him,” he chuckled weakly “the bastard is missing our eighth anniversary.”_

_Natasha gave a tiny smile, and her eyes betrayed that she was glad Clint was managing to make a joke, even after everything. He was pretty sure it was the first joke he had made in a long time, bad as it was. “Mmmh, how rude of him.”_

_“What am I going to do, Tasha?”_

_“You’ll manage. You always do.”_

~***~

 

When Phil woke up again, it was to a disappointingly empty bed, and after a quick check of the other side, it was clear that it had been empty for at least a few hours. Slightly rude of Clint to leave him alone, especially considering that it was their anniversary and all, but oh well. The more awake he became, however, the more he remembered of the night before (or earlier that morning, technically). Did Clint think he was mad at him? Was he _meant_ to be mad at Clint? What he said had hurt, but it was nothing that Phil couldn’t handle. Which meant that he wasn’t mad, and he had to go find Clint to tell him that. Wouldn’t want to ruin their tenth- no, eighth, anniversary.

Before he had the chance to even sit up, JARVIS began to speak, and really, he still wasn’t used to that. It was kinda creepy. “Good morning, Agent Coulson. I have informed Agent Barton that you are awake, he will be with you shortly.”

"Thank you JARVIS." Not wanting the room to fall into an awkward silence, Phil continued speaking as he shuffled up into a sitting position, trying to make casual conversation with the AI. "You know, legally his surname is Coulson, not Barton. He changed it when we got married."

"Yes, I am aware. However, I have never heard anybody refer to him as Coulson, so I assumed that he preferred to use Barton."

"He used to use Coulson all the time, except on missions, because we didn't want our orders to get muddled up. He uh, he doesn't really use it anymore. Not since I got back, anyway." He had noticed that almost straight away, but had never commented on it. He was sure there was a reason that Clint was back to using his old name, hadn't wanted to cause trouble by asking him why.

JARVIS didn't reply, and Phil was starting to think he was going crazy, talking about his problems to an artificial intelligence created by Tony Stark, of all people. The reason there was no reply soon became clear, however, when he heard Clint awkwardly clear his throat from the doorway. "I, uh- I brought you coffee. And breakfast in bed."

"Thank you, but you didn't have to-"

"-It's our anniversary, of course I had to." Clint cut him off, handing him the tray of food and coffee and climbing into the bed.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence whilst Phil ate, neither of them sure what to say. This had been happening more and more often, due to the fact that they were both trying to avoid the topic of Phil's death, and everything that had happened since then. They had been doing quite well at it, too, it was only sometimes that they would end up at a loss for words, trying to think of anything else to talk about.

Unable to bear the silence anymore, Phil started to speak, simply asking "How much of that did you hear?"

He didn't need to specify what he was referring to, assuming that it was as painfully obvious to Clint as it was to him. Clint took a moment to come up with a reply, which ended up being another question. "Does the surname thing really bug you?" He spoke softly, as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would scare Phil off.

"It doesn't matter, don't worry about it." He deliberately avoided answering the question, not wanting things to become awkward again. Before Clint had the chance to comment on that, because he knew he would, he changed the subject by handing Clint a box he had been hiding under his pillow (admittedly not the best hiding place, but Clint would find it wherever, so he didn’t bother trying). “Here you go. Happy te – eighth anniversary.”

Clint grinned, and somehow procured three small packages from nowhere and handed them to Phil. “Uh – happy eighth, ninth, and tenth anniversaries.” Once he had passed them over to Phil, he quickly cupped his face in his hands, kissing him gently. “I was wrong earlier, okay? Sorry.” He pressed another kiss to Phil’s lips, who couldn’t help but relax at it. “Now cheer up, no being grumpy on our anniversary.”

 

~***~

 

**_10 years earlier_ **

_“Clint, is it really necessary for you to be sitting in my lap? We’re in the middle of the cafeteria.”_

_“Yes, yes it is. In case you hadn’t noticed, there are no seats left.” Ah. He hadn’t actually noticed, had been too distracted by the presence of his boyfriend in his lap. “I can move, if you want me to. I’m sure Maria would appreciate having me on her lap.” Clint grinned and winked at Hill, who stifled a laugh behind her hand._

_Phil couldn’t help but chuckle too, thinking how ridiculous they must look, three professional spies acting like teenagers. “Honey, if you can stay in her lap for more than two seconds without getting tased, then you’re more than welcome to. In fact, I’d even let you make out with her if she let you.”_

_As if to prove his point, Maria got her taser out, twirling it between her fingers and attempting (and failing) to make seductive faces. “I’m all yours, Barton.”_

_Clint looked between Phil and Maria, as if trying to decide which he would rather go to, whilst also holding back a grin. “Hmmm, tough choice…who would I rather make out with, my boyfriend or the crazy lady?” Phil played along, quickly pinching Clint’s thigh, before removing his hand just as quickly. The archer smirked at him, and continued to speak. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to go with Phil. Sorry Maria, better luck next time.”_

_And with that, he turned to kiss Phil, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Phil, as much as he appreciated the kissing, was already turning bright red at the idea that people could see them, and so he tried his best to squeeze words between the kisses. “Clint – we are in the – middle of the cafeteria – stop.” Clint reluctantly pulled away, instead resting their foreheads together and grinning at Phil._

_After a few moments of them staying like that, Hill cleared her throat, and they both turned to face her. “You guys do know there are other people in here, right?” She paused to roll her eyes, although why she needed to pause for that, Phil had no idea. “You two are disgustingly cute.”_

_“Aw, Hill, you’re just jealous because we are the ultimate couple and you’re still single.”_

_“Sure, Barton, you keep telling yourself that…” She got up from the table, picking up her food tray as she stood. “Anyways, I have a meeting with Nick in like five minutes, so I should probably be off. Barton, for the love of god, please sit in your own chair.”_

_Once they had said their goodbyes, and she had left, Clint went to sit in the chair she had just vacated. And okay, maybe Phil was a teeny bit disappointed, a fact which Clint definitely noticed, since he once again decided to smirk. “Anyways, whilst we’re on the topic of surnames-“_

_“-we weren’t on the topic of surnames at all…”_

_“Yeah, well, we were using them. Basically the same thing. Anyway. Back to what I was saying. On the topic of surnames, I think I’d kinda like yours.”_

_“…” Phil said, raising an eyebrow._

_“Oh right, that’s not what I’m meant to say, is it?” He gave an exasperated sigh before starting again. “Phil, on the topic of surnames, I’ve been thinking that maybe we should get married.”_

_Phil wasn’t surprised, of course he wasn’t. He’d known that Clint had been trying to find a way to ask for weeks, and it had been getting to the stage where he was considering proposing to the man himself if he didn’t hurry up. So no, he wasn’t surprised, more relieved than anything. “Hm, okay.”_

_“’Okay’? All you say is ‘okay’? No ‘oh Clint, I love you so very much, of course I’ll marry you my darling’?”_

_“Does that really seem like the kinda thing I’d say?”_

_“Nah, you’re right. Okay is great.”_

~***~

 

“So, my dearest darlingest husband. Breakfast has been eaten, gifts have been given. What do you want to do with the rest of our day?” Clint was, at the moment he said this, sitting in Phil’s lap, and so he made the most of the situation by pressing kisses over Phil’s face as he waited for a reply.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure. What do people normally do on anniversaries?”

That was a very good question. In the earlier years of their marriage, one of them had always been called into work at the last minute, meaning that even when they scheduled days off together, they had never actually spent an entire day doing no work, without interruption. “I don’t know. I got dinner reservations for us, but that’s not until this evening…”

“Well we could maybe go for a walk? Is that a thing that people do, go on walks?” Phil looked doubtful, and Clint wasn’t so sure about it himself. A walk with no purpose sounded incredibly boring.

He tried to think of other things that people always seemed to talk about doing on their days off, but all that came to mind was the vague idea that televisions were involved. “We could have a lazy day? Y’know, watch movies, eat junk food. That kinda thing.”

Phil pulled a face at that; he hated being lazy probably more than he hated anything else. Oops, Clint should have remembered that before he mentioned it. “How about target practice at the range? We both enjoy that.”

Aha, finally an actual decent suggestion. “Yes, target practice sounds great. Let’s get changed and then we can get going.” He got up, heading to their wardrobe (which Stark had made about 1000x bigger than it actually needed to be), and started pulling out clothes for the both of them. However, a thought stopped him in his tracks. “Wait – doesn’t target practice technically count as work?”

“Um…maybe?” Phil frowned slightly, presumably trying to find an excuse to go anyway “Oh – oh, but if we don’t log it as a training session then it just counts as a random activity.”

“Wonderful, then it’s totally okay that we do it.” He chucked Phil’s clothes at him, going back to the bed to steal a quick kiss before he got dressed. “I love you and your loophole finding ways.”

Phil barely even seemed to notice the kiss, instead he was more focused on the clothes he had just been handed. “I’d say I love you too, but with _this_ taste in clothes I’m not sure that’s the wisest decision on my part.”

“Phil…”

Like some kind of stealth ninja, Phil was already back at the wardrobe, picking out something else to wear, so he had to turn away from the clothes to look at Clint when he replied. “What?”

“…You’re doing the thing again.” He didn’t need to elaborate, Phil would know exactly what he was talking about. The thing, the thing that Phil had done for as long as he’d known him, where Phil would suddenly start worrying over his clothes (hence all the fancy suits). When Clint had first noticed it, Phil had gotten incredibly embarrassed, which of course Clint had found adorable, so he’d kept commenting. A few weeks after they had begun living together, though, and Phil had had enough. He asked Clint to tell him when he was doing it, so that he would stop, and for years after that it had become second nature. This was, however, the first time it had happened since Phil had come back.

Phil had frozen in his spot, and Clint had a moment of panic that maybe it wasn’t okay to do that anymore, after all, it would just be one thing of many which had changed about their relationship recently. Luckily though, Phil laughed, quickly pulling out jeans and a t-shirt. “God, I thought I had managed to stop doing that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, it’s cute.”

“I am not cute, I am a very serious super spy.”

It was in that moment that Clint registered how weird their conversation was. Not weird by normal terms, but weird in the sense that it was the first time in years that he had been able to have such a joking conversation with his husband. Everything had become a lot more strained, Phil becoming a lot more withdrawn, and this was a nice relief, reminding him of how they used to be. He wished they could stay like that forever.

Naturally, because the universe likes to fuck with him like that, it was at that moment that an alarm went off in the tower, the one calling the avengers to assemble. He looked at Phil apologetically, saying “Gonna have to take a rain check on that target practice, sorry.”

Phil just gave a small smile, replying with “That’s completely fine. You go save the world for me, okay?”

“Of course… Wish me luck?”

He felt arms wrap around his neck, tugging him into a deep kiss. Yes, he had a good feeling about this fight.

 

~***~

 

**_1 year earlier_ **

_“Avengers, assemble!”_

_Goddammit. Clint had been in the middle of cooking dinner, and now he had to stop that to go off and save the world, or something to that effect. He turned off the stove, after all, he’d rather not burn down the tower whilst they were all off fighting, and ran to his room, ready to suit up. As he ran, he once again cursed whatever higher power there was that this was his life. Why couldn’t he just be a normal, average guy, who lived on a farm with two and a half kids, or something like that? Everything would be so much simpler then._

_When he arrived at his room, Natasha was stood in front of the door, placing a delicate hand on his chest before he could enter. “I’m sorry, Clint, but we all agreed it would be best if you sat this one out.”_

_He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but that was definitely not it. He turned her words over and over in his head, trying to work out what could possibly have caused this. “What, why?!”_

_“I think you know why, really. Your performance in the field hasn’t exactly been up to standard-“_

_He cut her off, horrified at what she was saying. “-‘up to standard’? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I make the shots, I never miss, you know that-“_

_“-Yes, Clint, I know. You’ll always be the best marksman I’ve ever met, but your injuries are becoming much too frequent, and much too severe, I-“_

_“-They’re just a couple of cuts and bruises! I swear, it’s nothing seri-“_

_“-You have been in the ICU twice this month alone, that’s hardly just a few cuts and-“_

_“-Shut up, okay, just shut up. It’s hardly like I’ve been stabbed through the heart-“_

_“-No it’s not, but if that’s what this is about then you are an idiot. Phil wouldn’t want you to-“_

_“-DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HIM.” If Clint had been shouting with Natasha before, then this was practically screaming. He tried his best to lower his tone as he continued with “We agreed we wouldn’t talk about him.”_

_“Clinton Francis Coulson,” He flinched at the usage of the name, something he had tried his best not to have to hear for so long, but he quickly hid his reaction when she glared at him “don’t do this to yourself. Please. We can’t afford to lose you too.”_

_Clint sat out of that mission, made everybody a damn good dinner to come back to instead. But the next time they were called to assemble, he pulled Natasha to one side, asking her if she would wish him luck, the way they used to all those years ago. She had been sceptical, didn’t think it would help, but she kissed him anyway, and let him join in again. The mission wasn’t perfect, he still got a few cuts and bruises, but they were nowhere near as bad as they had been getting, so they agreed to continue._

_It surprised Clint, how easy it was to fall back into a habit that he hadn’t had in almost ten years. Kissing Natasha wasn’t, could never be, the same as kissing Phil, but he wasn’t about to deny that it helped, because it did. He stopped getting quite so badly injured on missions, stopped letting his team down. It worked okay._

****

~***~

 

When the Avengers arrived back to the tower, it was rather late at night, and they had spent most of the day fighting…whatever it was they had actually been fighting. Phil had avoided the news, not wanting to become any more worried than he already was. Turns out, he liked having the whole day to himself. Obviously, he would have preferred to spend it with Clint, but this was good too. He had finished his book and, still waiting for everyone to come back, he had spent a while in the kitchen, making as much food as he possibly could. The group of superheroes were always crazily hungry when they got back from a fight, and Thor, Steve, and Bruce each ate enough for a small army anyway, even when they weren’t exhausted. Goddamn superhuman metabolism.

As he was handing out food to everyone, he remembered vaguely that Clint had mentioned something about dinner reservations, but looking at the time (almost 11pm), he figured he was fairly safe in assuming that they had missed those. Oh well, it’s not like it was the end of the world. It was just dinner. For some reason, even though they had a perfectly functional dining table, the avengers always insisted on sitting on the sofas and chairs in the living room, a thing that usually annoyed Phil, but at that moment only made him feel grateful, because it meant that he could cuddle up close to Clint whilst he ate.

Whilst he cuddled his husband, he absolutely definitely was not carefully running his hands over him, checking for any injuries. Nope, no, not at all. And even if he was, after all his years of doing exactly that, he had gotten pretty good (in his own humble opinion) at disguising the action as a simple display of affection.

Well, he thought he was. “Phil, I’m fine. Stop worrying.” Clint muttered into his ear, low enough that nobody else could hear.

“I always worry. Also, excuse me if I don’t believe you. Nat told me all about how well you did with staying uninjured whilst I was…away.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can we please not talk about that?” Clint shuffled slightly, gently removing Phil’s hands from his body. “I swear I’m fine. Anyway, sorry that our anniversary kinda sucked.”

“’s fine. There’s always next year.”

“And the next, and the year after that. For the rest of our lives.” Hearing Clint say that, obvious as it was, still made Phil smile. He really was so lucky.

 

~***~

 

**_3 months earlier_ **

_“You’re not Phil.”_

_His first time seeing Clint, face to face, in over two years, and that’s the first thing he hears him say. Great. He could tell this conversation was shaping up to be a bad one. “I see why you might think that, but I promise you, Clint, it’s me.”_

_“No, no it’s not. Because you see, I know my husband. I know him better than he knows himself, and I_ know _, I know for a fact that he would never let me believe he was dead for twO YEARS. He would never do that to me, not the Phil I know.”_

_Phil carefully hid his flinch at the words, trying his best to ignore the fact that they hurt just as much as it had hurt to be stabbed through the heart. He kept his voice calm and even as he replied. “But I’m back now, and that’s the important thing, right? Everything can go back to the way it was.”_

_Luckily, Clint didn’t shout again, but it was plain to see that it was taking a lot of effort for him not to. “You fucking bastard.” His words were spoken harshly, so much so that he was practically spitting as he talked. “This is never going back to the way it was, because I will never forgive you for this.” Clint grabbed him, shoving him against the wall and pinning him there using his hands at Phil’s throat. When Phil stayed silent, he raised his voice again, shouting in Phil’s face. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”_

_Before Phil could reply, Natasha and Maria had pulled Clint off of Phil, leaving him free to actually breathe. He could think of nothing to say, and was pretty sure that even if he did say something, he would only burst into tears halfway through his sentence. That wouldn’t do, he needed to stay professional. He watched silently as Clint yanked a chain from around his neck, tossing it at Phil and growling “I kept your ring. Doubt you’ll be needing it anymore. You know,” he huffed “looking at you now, I’m struggling to see what I ever saw in you.”_

_And wow, if what Clint had said before had hurt, then this felt like his heart had been ripped in two. And the worst part was, he knew he couldn’t even argue. He knew that Clint had always been out of his reach, but after over ten years of being with him, he had grown accustomed to that fact, and it had never really bugged him. He knew Clint loved him, and that was all he had needed. Now, however, he was looking back at their entire relationship, wondering if it had all been a lie. It probably had been, if he was being honest._

_He kept watching, still silent, as Clint stormed out of the room, calling out behind him “Don’t come looking for me, Phil. I don’t need you to find me.”_

_Obviously, he had looked for him, because he couldn’t imagine a life without Clint, and it took him almost a month to find him, nervously approaching him in a seedy bar._

_“Clint…”_

_“Phil, I thought I told you not to look for me?”_

_“Well, sorry, but I didn’t listen.”_

_“Of course not. God, I’ve missed you. I shouldn’t have run off, I’m sorry.”_

_“So, you’ll take me back?” Phil asked this as casually as he could, not wanting to show his weakness, the hopeful tone of his voice._

_“I don’t really see that I have another choice, do you?” And Phil couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not, but he decided to just leave it. After all, he had his husband back, even if his husband didn’t necessarily_ want _to be back._

****

~***~

 

Eventually, very late that night, possibly even early the next morning, Clint and Phil were finally in bed. Clint was sleeping peacefully, exhausted from the fight earlier, and Phil, who for some reason couldn’t sleep, was perfectly content just watching Clint.

Clint must not have been as asleep as Phil had thought he was, however, because he mumbled “Stop staring at me. ‘s creepy.”

“Sorry, I’ll stop. Can’t really help it, you’re kinda beautiful.”

“Mmmph, so are you. Love you, now shut up and go to sleep.”

Phil curled as close to Clint as he could, burying his face in his hair and muttering “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay right well I hope you enjoyed this, as always please leave comments, I love to hear what you guys think!
> 
> Also, I now have a [tumblr](http://superangsty.tumblr.com), so feel free to check it out!


End file.
